


all senses awake

by toneelspeler



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person, five senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 10:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toneelspeler/pseuds/toneelspeler
Summary: a love in the five senses.





	all senses awake

It begins with laughter – a clear, loud chuckle; a response to an over-eager joke. You had zoned out for a conversation that, once again, wasn’t something you could partake in. And even within the cafeteria, filled with eating students and an overabundance of loud conversations, you still hear it.

When you find a video with him, you keep watching it, rewinding to moments your face can’t help to react to – you smile, you chuckle, your face begins to hurt just a little because you can’t keep it from happening to you unconsciously. The sound is stunning, beautiful; a joy to hear.

Later, you’d say to him that the cafeteria was the moment you knew – that this was a moment that would change things. That his laughter, his smile, was the first of many things of him you fell in love with. You keep reminding him too, via words or by making him laugh, and you feel victorious every time you manage to get the same chuckle that you heard that very first day.

There are other things you love to hear – mostly, his voice. His deep, low voice, made to tell stories and the thoughts within his mind. It squeaks a little when he’s teasing; it’s sexy, even if he doesn’t mean it to be; it’s a little husky when he’s finding it difficult to speak; it’s soft and slow and it calms you down when you’re aggravated by a rude passerby.

_Hearing_ him was the start.

\--

After that first moment, you can’t help but look. And it happens quickly; if you’re caught staring you’re not quite sure what his reaction will be. You’re not sure, but you swear that you saw a little smile on the face of this person, this attractive guy – and you’ve never felt an instant attraction to someone before.

It slowly turns into a weird mouse and cat game, with each of you trying to catch the other’s eye but when you do, you quickly try to escape – to make it seem like you’re not staring at all. You often fail. It’s not until that faithful afternoon, sitting in his windowsill, that it all stops for a while and you realise that he is allowing you to watch him and he doesn’t mind it. When he looks at you, there’s a spark in his eyes and you can feel it, this is not just in your head.

The next party you keep trying to look away, but it’s all in vain – you stare at him as he kisses someone else, imagining yourself to be kissing him. Then his eyes open and you lose yourself a little. You close your eyes, but his image is burned into your memory.

And every moment you grow closer to him, you feel more and more okay with looking at him, and him looking at you. Him framing your face with his finger, stroking your eyebrow and feeling your smile on your lips – you and him losing yourselves in each other’s gaze.

It’s followed by _seeing_ him.

\--

At a certain moment, there’s not a place that you haven’t touched on his body – you’re familiar with the grooves in his smiling eyes, his soft hair after showering and losing its product, his broad shoulders on which your stretched arm fits perfectly. But there’s a touch between the two of you, a small brush of noses – a bunny kiss as he calls it – that you prefer to all the rest.

It’s a sign of _okay?_ A sign of _yes I am._ It reminds you and him of better times in moments of great difficulty – it lets you go back to basic, back to who you are to him, and what he means to you.

It has many incarnations, with brushing your noses next to each other, up and down; brushing it against his unmoving one to relax him into your bed; him giving your nose a small bump to make you smile again.

You started it all that first time you were in his arms.

After you see him, you _touch_ him.

\--

Cooking has never been your strong point, but fate decided to give you your very own cooking prince; a boy whose favourite days begin with feeding his boyfriend a big breakfast, sprouting off all the reasons why you shouldn’t skip that very first one of the day. You used to do that a lot.

And you’ve tried, you did, but it’s just not going to work for you; you’re too impatient to care about it too much.

You ask him once if he minds that you don’t do the cooking, and he tells you _no, how else can I get you to love me? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!_ You laugh, but he’s not wrong. The care he puts into creating breakfasts, lunches and dinners – even making difficult Moroccan dinners he’s not used to make on his own, just to have a small date at home with the two of you – makes you feel cared for, and you love him even more, and you thank him every time he does so.

There’s a certain _taste_ in his love for you.

\--

You always felt that smelling someone’s clothing was a bit creepy whenever you saw it in films, but now that you’re here, with a boy in your bed and your nose in the nape of his neck as he’s sleeping - you can’t help but feel a little intoxicated. You don’t sleep on that pillow for days after, hoping to preserve that particular scent of his.

And you know that there are _scientific_ reasons for this, for wanting to borrow every hoodie that he owns to put on your body – to pull the sleeve of his shirt over your hand and smell it a little when he’s been staying over at his parents’ for the night and feeling a little comforted. So it’s not creepy, not at all, and when you rewatch _Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince_ with him, you tell him that your love potion would smell like his shampoo, he tells you that it would be the scent of the hairs at your temple for him.

Because for all intents and purposes, _he_ is the one who steals _your_ clothes more often than the other way around. Which makes it easier for you, really, because you just wear your own clothes after. It’s also _your_ bed he’s been obsessed with since the very beginning, telling you that he likes your bed more than he likes his own. You like it more when he’s in it.

So when you move in together, there’s no discussion, and no more difficulty. You wear his cute maroon beanie, and he wears his favourite grey hoodie of yours, and you sleep together in the bed that started it all.

It’s become an amalgamation of smells, of you and him. It _smells_ like love.

\--

After you heard him in the cafeteria. After you saw him looking back. After you brushed your nose against his. After he made you taste his breakfast made for you. After he was in your bed for the first time.

You never had the chance to _not_ fall in love with him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come and find me on tumblr @toneelspeler!
> 
> i made a post a few weeks back on tumblr regarding why i think the relationship between isak and even as portrayed in skam feels as real as it does. and i personally think it's because of the use of five senses - senses that make you perceive something, that makes something real. all of the senses have a specific focus in s3 of skam and that's what i tried to show in this little drabble.


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